The door flies open and smoke immediately blows out into my face. “Yeah?” A girl asks. I take notice of her messy appearance. She’s sickly petite, her hair a nest on top of her head and her eyes are bloodshot.
“Um, yeah, is Hannah here?” I ask, disbelief running through my mind as I get a full look into Hannah’s new lifestyle. She opens the door wider for me, allowing me to step in.
“She’s in the room down the hall,” is all she says, walking out and disappearing into the hallway.
“Thanks,” I mumble. I immediately look around and can’t believe more than one person even lives here. It’s a complete disaster—garbage and cat shit littering the carpet.
“Hannah?” I call out, not exactly sure which room I’m looking for. “Are you back there?” I hear movement in the next room and slowly push the door open. “Hello?”
Nothing in my time of knowing Hannah could’ve prepared me for what I was seeing. That wasn’t Hannah. There’s no way. Hannah was a well-put together woman with a highly-competitive journalist position. The story she wrote about the Leighton’s skyrocketed her career to the top. This woman lying on the bed in front of me couldn’t be her.
She was mere skin and bones, her long hair now short and ratted. Her arms were scrawny and filled with bruises.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter as I walk toward her. “Hannah?”
She slowly raises, her eyes only half open, as she looks me up and down. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the infamous perfection of a man, Bentley Leighton. Long time no see.” She smirks, sitting all the way up now.
“Shit, Hannah.” I brush both hands through my hair in complete disbelief that this is actually her. “Are you all right?”
She scowls at me. “Don’t come waltzing into my apartment, into my life and mother me. I’m just fine.” She parades to what is acting as a table and grabs a cigarette. As she lights it, I get a better look at her. She’s a fucking junkie.
“Screw you, Hannah. You might’ve ruined your career and life all on your own, but you didn’t have to take mine down with you. Considering you were the one that fucked me over.”
“Oh, Bentley. Are you still upset over that?” She wraps her lips around the end, inhaling and holding it in briefly before exhaling. “I should be the one upset, after all. Once your mother clawed her teeth into my career, what did I have left?”
“Don’t you dare blame this on my family. You brought that all on yourself.” I stand up, ready for a fight, but there’s no use. She’s pathetic.
“So what do you want anyway?” she asks, as she leans down to snort a line of what I presume is cocaine.
“Don’t be doing that shit around me,” I growl, grabbing her arm and pushing her away from the table.
“Let go of me,” she hisses. I release her immediately, regretting this whole thing.
“You’re a fucking bitch, you know that? You deserve everything that happened to you after you pulled that shit on me.” She sits on the bed, her back facing me. I can tell she wants to speak, but she doesn’t, so I just continue. “I’ll help you, Hannah,” I say softly. “You retract your interview, and I’ll get you into rehab. I’ll pay for it.”
Hannah doesn’t deserve my help, but I can’t just walk away knowing she’s slowly killing herself. She was better than that at one point. She was a shark and to see her defeated is just sad.
She turns around slowly, her expression filled with amusement. “You think I need your help, Leighton?” She laughs coldly, taking a hit of her cigarette. “That’s rich.”
“Fine…have it your way. I’ll make sure your junkie ass never sees the inside of a studio. Have a nice life.” I walk out of the bedroom, rage and regret consuming me almost immediately. Fuck. I fight with myself before I even get to the front door.
“Bentley, wait!” she calls out after me. I turn around and see her weak body rushing toward me. “Wait, just a fucking second.” She begins panting as if walking ten feet is too much for her.
I sigh, annoyed that it’s come to this. “What?”
“I’ll do it. I’ll do it, okay?”
“What’s it gonna cost?” I ask expressionless.
She shakes her head. “No, nothing.”
I stand silent. I’m stunned that she’s agreed to what I’d asked. “Come on,” I plead. “Let me get you some help. You’re a damn mess, Hannah.”
She’s hesitant at first but then slowly nods her head. “All right.”
* * *
I fly back home the following day, wanting to get back to Ceci and some kind of normal.
I’m sitting back in my office chair when I hear Ceci walking in. “My interview is the same day you fly out.” She looks defeated and worn out.
I fly out in a few days for another shoot—hopefully, one of my last ones for a while.
“Do you want me to reschedule my flight?” I’ve been attached to my desk for the past two days. Between emails and phone calls, I’m still dealing with the press as well as keeping in contact with Hannah’s rehab clinic.
“No, of course not. I was going to ask if you wanted me to reschedule my interview so I could come with you to the airport.” Her voice is soft, weak. She slowly walks closer, her hands crossed in the front.
Ceci’s been busy preparing for her interview so we haven’t talked much. Ever since the pictures of her and Jason went live, it’s been one of those things we’re trying to get through. They fueled the fire that Hannah’s interview already set off.
“No, I’ll only be gone a few days this time. I told Angie I wanted to fly in, do the interview and shoot, and get back home.”
She nods, fidgeting with her fingers that are placed in front of her.
I push myself off the chair and walk toward her. She angles herself so we’re facing each other, chest to chest.
I press a hand to her cheek, her face leaning in as her eyes close on contact. “I’ll miss you,” I say softly. Her lips curl up into a small smile.
“I’ll miss you, too.” Her eyes open. “I have a catering appointment with your mother…so I will really miss you.”
I smirk, removing my hand and leaning in to graze her lips lightly. “I’m so bummed I’ll be missing that.”
She scowls playfully. “I bet.”
“We’ll figure this out, okay? I know it hasn’t been easy on you.” I watch as her eyes stay locked on mine. “I trust you,” I clarify. I want her to know that I do wholeheartedly. I’ve had Ceci to myself for a long time while we traveled, and we always stayed low in Omaha. Now things are spiraling out of control and rumors are being spread that it’s making me feel so out of control—something I definitely don’t accept willingly.
“You have nothing to worry about,” she says sincerely. “I mean, it’s only like twenty or so college guys stretching in really tight uniforms. No biggie.” She shrugs, knowing damn well that definitely doesn’t make me feel any better.
I play her game, knowing she’ll be just as uncomfortable as I am. “All right. Good to know. I’m only shooting with four other girls in bikinis. I’m glad we can be mature adults and comfortable with being around hot people.”
“I never said hot!” she mocks, pushing me playfully in the chest. “Not to mention, half-naked!” I step back, pretending she actually has enough power to push me backward. I laugh as her face heats up, obviously on to my little game.
“What?” I ask jokingly. “You aren’t insecure, are you?”
She pushes me again, scowling. “You don’t play fair.” She tries to hide the smile that’s forming.
I wrap my arms around her, bending at the waist as she tries and gets out. “Sweetheart, you know you’re the only girl I ever look at,” I say sincerely. She stops fighting me and finally looks me in the eyes. “You’re the most beautiful person I know—inside and out. You have nothing to worry about.”
She bites her lip, taking in every word I’m telling her. She should know this by now anyway, but I know it isn’t easy seeing each other aroun
d other men and women.
“I hope they know that.” She grins, throwing my words back at me.
“They know, don’t worry.” I kiss her lips, slow and soft. “I know…and that’s all that matters anyway.”
“Does this mean you won’t be following me around if I get this job to make sure guys don’t hit on me?”
“Of course not,” I say seriously. “I’d hire someone for that. I couldn’t possibly do that all day and work.”
“You’re such an ass.” She laughs. “Okay, but for real.” Her face turns serious, both of us standing straight up now. “We need to trust each other fully. We can’t let the media get to us and tear us apart. It’s ruining us and I hate it.”
I stroke her cheek, slowly brushing her hair back behind her ear. “You’re absolutely right. We can’t pay them any attention. We’re happily engaged and that’s all that matters.”
“Good to hear, Mr. Leighton. We’ll prove to them how wrong they all are.” She wraps her arms around my waist, tilting her head all the way up to lock eyes with me.
I wrap my arms around her. “Sounds perfect to me.”
* * *
Half way through my flight, Ceci emails me and tells me she was offered the position right on the spot. I could sense her giddiness so I respond with how proud I am of her. I know she was really excited about the position. She spent hours doing research about the campus and learning about their baseball team. She was always good at making sure to cross her T’s and dot her I’s.
Luckily, I would only be gone for three days, but most of it will be spent adjusting to the time difference and being told where to stand and what to wear.
It sucks being away from Ceci, but it makes it easier during shooting knowing she isn’t bored or uncomfortable watching me pose with the other models.
This shoot is for a swimsuit company that wants couple and group shots. Unfortunately, it’s freezing cold out and we have to shoot outside for the summer issue.
By the end of the day, I’m exhausted and frozen, happy to be flying out the next morning. Ceci and I email a couple more times before I pass out for the night, preparing for a long flight home.
It’s when I’m sitting in first class during the sixth hour that it hits me. Is this career really worth it if it’s constantly tearing us apart? Is a career that sends me thousands of miles away really worth jeopardizing everything I fought so hard for?
I’m not so sure anymore.
Chapter Eleven
Cecilia
There’s more to the story
I CAN’T BREATHE. I’m losing more oxygen by the second, and I can’t get my lungs to open up.
I gasp, clawing my neck. Breathe, dammit.
I sit up in my bed, clenching my chest and throat. I inhale deeply, finally feeling relief from the oxygen that I wasn’t receiving. It’s only a dream.
Just a dream, I remind myself.
I claw the sheets, rubbing them over my forehead and face to wipe off the sweat. That was one of the worst dreams I’ve ever had.
I lay back, relieved. My heart is still racing as I think what I had just dreamt.
I lied to Bentley about reading the interview. I lied to him about looking at the pictures. I lied about all of it. And now I was paying for it.
My mind spins as I recall the dream—rather, nightmare. One moment it’s Bentley and I—him making love to me. The next—Hannah and Bentley.
Hannah and Bentley.
The thought of them together makes me jump out of bed and head straight for the bathroom. I throw up last night’s dinner of shrimp and pasta. Katelynn and I had gotten together to discuss wedding details for her and Brandon’s Winter Wonderland wedding at the end of the year.
Thinking of her and Brandon instead of my dream soothes me for a few moments. I rinse my mouth and wash my face before heading back into bed. My stomach feels queasy and I’m completely nauseous just thinking of the images in my mind.
Hannah on top of Bentley.
Bentley bending Hannah over.
Bentley driving deep inside her.
Hannah moaning and screaming his name as he continues pumping forcefully from behind.
His nails digging into her hips as he bucks into her, harder and deeper.
Oh, god.
I run back to the bathroom for a second round. The dream felt so real—looked so real. It was as if I were watching them from above as if I had a front row viewing.
Nothing like this has ever happened before. I’ve never imagined Bentley with other women. We both had past lovers, and I knew that going in he was clearly not a virgin, but this was different. Now I had read her words and had a visual.
I make a pot of coffee, no use in trying to get back to sleep anytime soon. Every time I close my eyes, the images of them pop back into my mind.
I decide to tackle my email, something I’ve been avoiding for days.
Half way through my cup of coffee, I come across an email that’s addressed to me, but I don’t recognize the email.
Dear Cecilia West:
You don’t know me, but I know you.
I met you when you were only five years old. I’ve known your dad for many years. I know it’s been years since his death, but if you’re interested, I’d love to see you again. If so, email me back. We can meet somewhere public if you wish. I know this is a random message, but you can trust me.
Sincerely,
Ava
Ava? A woman is emailing me about my father? I always suspected he worked for a mob-type of guy. No one outside of my family and Bentley know that we know the truth…we never made it public. So who was she? Was she his mistress? His gambling partner? Nothing ever came up with an Ava.
I scroll down and notice she sent me another one just a couple days ago.
Dear Cecilia West:
I don’t blame you for being hesitant to email me back. I know your fiancé is in the spotlight right now, and I promise it has nothing to do with that. But…I’d like to see you again before it’s too late. Please message me back.
Sincerely,
Ava West Freeman
Oh my god.
Ava West.
My heart races as I read the last email she sent me. I read it over twice just to make sure I read it correctly.
I do a quick Google search for an Ava West, but nothing comes up. Not even a Facebook page. What the hell?
I slam my laptop shut before deciding I must still be dreaming and go back to bed.
* * *
I wake up to the sound of shuffling coming from the hallway. It’s just after five in the morning, and I’m convinced someone’s broken into my house.
I quickly reach over and click the lamp on. I open my eyes just in time to see Bentley walking in with his luggage.
“Bentley?” I gasp, holding a hand to my chest. I wasn’t expecting him back until this afternoon.
“Morning, sweetheart,” he says in a soft tone, his face lighting up. “Sorry, I woke you up. I wanted to surprise you.”
A hundred thoughts start rushing in—the dream, the images, and the email from Ava. Jesus…it’s too much.
I feel the blood draining from my face. Seeing him after those vivid dreams is making it hard not to burst into tears and overreact.
“That’s okay. I’m glad you arrived safely,” I say weakly, not entirely awake yet. “I haven’t slept well.”
“I didn’t either. I hate sleeping without you.” He bends down next to the bed so our eyes are level. He cups my face as he softly kisses my lips. I inhale his scent, reminding myself that he’s mine.
“I hate it, too. I think I need a companion,” I offer lightly. “Perhaps a dog. One that won’t mind my cuddling with it while you aren’t home.” I smile hopefully.
“A dog, huh? Well, I might not be gone as much anymore.”
“What do you mean? Angie had you booked for practically the rest of the year.”
He rubs his knuckles up and down my cheek, looking deep into my eyes. I
have no idea what he’s talking about, but I can tell he’s definitely up to something.
“We’ll talk about it later, okay? Let’s get some sleep.”
By the time I wake up again, it’s well past noon. Bentley looks to be unconscious, so I don’t wake him. I know he’s always beat when he gets home from long flights.
After making coffee and breakfast, I decide to open my laptop and read Ava’s emails again. I contemplate telling her to leave me the hell alone, and that I’m content with the closure I have, but the nagging part of me is eager to hear what she has to say.
With shaky and sweaty palms, I begin to write her back. I ask her when is the soonest she can meet me. I tell her I’ll be bringing my fiancé with me because I don’t trust her. At least she’ll know that much.
Once I click send, my body shivers with nerves and anticipation. I can’t believe my father’s death has resurfaced again. His death has always hovered over me—the questions and never-ending obsession to know what happened. Once I knew—once I read his letter—I finally felt at peace.
Now this could change everything—again.
I tell Bentley about the email as soon as he’s capable of retaining information. He’s still groggy from traveling, but he’s just as surprised as I was.
“It just seems odd, right? Like all these years later and now, she’s contacting me. Do you think it has anything to do with the recent…rumors?”
“Ceci…a lot of people will suddenly appear in your life when fame or some kind of celebrity status hits you. The fact that you’re engaged to me—that brings no surprise that you’d get an email from a family member or something—if it’s even legit that is. Just…don’t get your hopes up. She could definitely be a fraud, but it doesn’t hurt to know for sure.
I bite my lip as I take in his words. He’s absolutely right. It’s like when someone wins the lottery or suddenly has an overnight success—long lost cousins and siblings surface looking for a hand out.
After the Internship: A Novella (The Intern #4) Page 7
